


Small Sacrifices

by Queen_ofSassgard



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton - Fandom, Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: F/M, Fluff, baby bridgertons, don't think about what happens shortly after this fic is set, he's so sure Hyacinth is a girl, she's so sure Hyacinth is a boy, tooth rotting fluff who am i kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29014164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_ofSassgard/pseuds/Queen_ofSassgard
Summary: "I miss dancing with your father. The very last time I danced was with him at a ball. There were peacocks present I believe, real ones. I suppose I miss everything about him really.""The two of you loved each other so very much. It is a rarity I realize."That's is not to say it was it's trials. Your- Your father and I faced many difficulties indeed but we overcame them. We made a decision early on to do so."The last time the Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton danced.
Relationships: Edmund Bridgerton/Violet Bridgerton
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	Small Sacrifices

**Author's Note:**

> The plot bunny that just wouldn't die and I told Layne about it so I had to write it. . .

It certainly wouldn't be the first time the Viscountess Bridgerton had attended a party with a babe due within a months.

With the oldest seven little blossoms, and the eighth due come the end of the Season there was little to be done in the past eighteen years that hadn't been in some way affected by one or anther of her children's births. Conventional medical advice said a lady should take to her bed and rest when she was so heavy with child- but with the Bridgerton children about that simply was not an option. A daily barrage of tantrums, torn dresses or britches, scraped knees, and the like required a mother's attention. If she could go about her duties as a mother she could very well do everything else that was expected of the Viscountess Bridgerton couldn't she?

Well nearly everything. Participating to the extent she wanted at the parties wasn't exactly that easy.

A voice penetrated her musings. “You don't have to do this you know,” The pair of arms that belonged to that voice wrapped around- or as near as they could- Violet's waist. “No one would blame you if you simply bowed out for the evening. They might not think you're not quite so mad as a matter of fact,” With the size of her belly he'd already been teasing her for weeks with the prospect of this one being baby number eight _and_ nine.

That question wouldn't be answered until they were home. It might not be the last ball of the Season for the city but it would be for the Bridgertons. The parliament session which was the reason they were more than the social season- despite the imitate birth of their eighth child- had ended early, mercifully. He was already itching to be back in the country. . . as was she but, there would be one more London party before the eighth little blossom made his or her appearance.

She leaned into him, “Mmmhm, I'm supposed to bow out after only an hour?”

“Oh no, we can't have that. Ladies shouldn't travel without a chaparone.”

“You're coming too then?” Violet arched a brow.

“Hardly.” he squeezed her tighter.

“Edmund!”

“What kind of husband would I be,” he kissed her neck, “would I be if I left you to suffer alone?”

“One of day someone- sooner rather than later given the way you behave- is going to catch you acting like the rake you are, and it'll ruin both of us,” Heavens knew they'd- **she'd** \- been on the receiving end of enough disapproving glances from their eldest son over the past six months. The horrors of one's parents having a baby at the positively decrepit ages of thirty-six and thirty-eight proved to be too much for Anthony Bridgerton.

Not that what the society matrons were saying was be any better.

Against her better judgment and much to her back's protests, Violet untangled herself from her husband's arms. “You have duties to see to, Lord Bridgerton. Now shoo. Go. . . mingle or something.”

Edmund scoffed and reached for her again, “I **was** seeing to my duties until you so rudely moved, Lady Bridgerton. But if you're going to be stubborn there are other duties to see to.” He didn't however make a move to leave her side.

Normally it was a sweet gesture but there was something about the way he stood that seemed suspicious. “We're fine,” she flinched when the babe kicked impatiently at her hand. Violet added hastily, “He always kicks when I'm still for more than a moment.”

“All the more reason to see to those _other_ duties, we'll save your ribs. She'll settle in a moment,” Again he wrapped an arm around her.

After the older boys he'd seemed determined every child was a girl, and to be fair they'd had three a row before Gregory came.

“The band was none too happy about changing the order but they'll make do.” Edmund smiled wickedly.

That man really was balmy. “Edmund Bridgerton.” she warned. Some things were sacrosanct. . . and the order in which dances happened was one of those things especially when one wasn't the host of the party!

He held a hand out to her. “Come,”

“No.” the little traitor in her womb seemed to take that as a hint to land a particularly nasty kick on her liver. Of course he would side with his utterly daft father. It wasn't enough Edmund had the older seven on his side- he'd corrupted the one still in her belly as well.

“And why not?”

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

“I **can't**.”

“You're beginning to sound like a mockingbird my lady,”

She snorted in a rather unladylike manner. “I could say the same thing about you.”

“It's all arranged. You're not much of a hostess if you don't dance with someone.”

“Six months gone with your child, I absolutely can. London's scandalized enough the invitations for this party went out.”

Edmund tugged her toward the dance floor. “I beg to differ my lady. You've been wed long enough the mamas of the ton. . . well you are one of them. Have been for quite some time.”

“And here I thought you were the one who didn't fancy being the talk of London.”

“I won't be the one they're gossiping about,” he squeezed her hand. “and we're going home by the end of the week.”

“When they haul you to Bedlam it's on your own head.”

“I'll risk it,” he laughed wolfishly.

She scowled. With the babe still two or three months away a curtsy wasn't completely out of the question just yet. The most ungainly weeks they'd be at Aubrey Hall away from company for the most part.

Now avoiding his toes was another problem entirely. She'd not been able to see her own for weeks much less anything else that near the floor. “You didn't have to do this, Edmund.”

“Oh but I did.” he smirked at something over her shoulder.

Violet turned to look and flushed imminently pink. Of course Anthony had seen and looked none too approving. Ever since he'd realized how much their eldest son disapproved of this latest sibling he'd taken a fiendish amount of glee in trying to annoy the boy.

“I wasn't about to let you miss dancing at the last party for the year, my love.”

“You hate dancing.”

“You don't, Lady Bridgerton. A small sacrifice I make for my viscountess.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did I fudge some dates? Maybe. Do I care? No. This was too cute not to write. But also Shondaland we have some things to talk about besides your obvious trolling with the dogs. . . as cute as that “Reformed rakes make the best husbands” thing Violet says is it makes no sense . . the man was a virgin when they got married. Edmund bro you're not a rake get over it.


End file.
